Sometimes You need a Pre-Conversation

Partner & I should have had the pre-conversation earlier. 

A friend of ours would be a great fit as our roommate. He told us today that he signed a new, year-long lease. We didn’t know he was looking – he had mentioned his current sublet ends in October and he’s going on tour – and if we had known, we would have told him to move in with us when our apartment renovation finishes in around 4 months. 

We had discussed the concept with him, but evidently not been sufficiently direct or explicit, because when the topic came up he expressed interest (and not just as polite dismissal, but actual interest). He had just never connected “These people want to live with roommates” with “I like spending time with them” and “I’m looking for a place to live” to arrive at “Therefore I should be their roommate.” 

We have one other friend who is also a great fit. Now we know to have the pre-conversation. Not to commit to anything – just to ensure that we talk to each other before he signs a new lease or we fill the rooms. 

Fortunately, the failed-friend is choosing his current place in part because it’s easy for him to sublet. 

So, in 4 months, after he’s had a successful sublet, it’s time for us to chat again. 

There are only three ways to lose a game: 

  1. Exhaust all possible resources. 
  2. Give up. 
  3. The clock expires. 

The clock has not expired. We have many more available resources. We refuse to give up.

Pickled Frogs

If you do work first thing in the morning, you get to spend the entire rest of the Sunday playing games, which really makes the rest of the day much more joyful. If you play games first thing in the morning, then you spend the day dreading the work, and then you’re tired when it’s time to do the work. The work is much more grumbly, which is worse. Or, as Benjamin Franklin once said, quoting Mark Twain: “If you’re going to bed early and rise, be sure to be healthy, wealthy, and eat frogs.”

Today, partner and I reviewed the entire cabinetry purchase order for the apartment renovation. There were many tiny details that I wanted to measure and test, and it took around three hours. At the end, we went for a walk, during which I found new pickleball courts. I then bench pressed 175 lbs., which Partner is particularly impressed by because it is more than she deadlifts. I am excited at the prospect of buying pickleball shoes and going to play pickleball in the local park.

All this delight was enabled by awakening early and rising so that we could be healthy, wealthy, and having eaten a frog.

Winning from Others Winning

Today, I went 0 for 3 in board games with friends. 

In the first two games I got absolutely trounced. Tied for last place in each game sort of trounced. 0 points in every game level of trounced. 

After losing those three so badly, I said something like, “And now I’m mad. I still love this game, and I’m pissed. I’m going to play it over and over again til I figure it out.” 

Another player – one who had also scored 0 points in both – said he was mad too. But that I didn’t seem angry or annoyed at losing: I was celebrating other people making good moves. 

I learned that skill at clownschool: something like “compersion”: sharing in the joy of others. Yes, I want to win. Yes, I will do everything to win. And also, I will respect you and appreciate you and support you when you have a great move. 

I will absolutely not tell you when you make a mistake. But I will share in your joy when you execute a beautiful combo. 

I find this method a much more joyful way to play games. 

🙂

On Mathemagic

Tonight, Partner and I saw an off-Broadway show of a guy doing fast math in his head. He calls himself a “math-e-magician.” 

This performer does a great job of playing things off. One of his acts is to to guess the missing digit of the answer to an incredibly long multiplication problem. Starting with a 4 digit number from a previous trick, each audience member uses their phone calculator to multiply by a new 5 digit number that they don’t say out loud, and then they read all but one digit aloud. Give the digits in any order — he can still figure out what’s missing.

Magicians never reveal their secrets, but, for a math-e-magician, the reveal is part of the show. The trick is that he selected a multiple of 9 as the starting number. Therefore, the sum of the digits will always be a multiple of 9. So if The sum is 68? The next multiple of 9 is 72, so the answer is 4. The sum of the digits given is 34? The missing digit is 2 (34+2=36, 36/9=0). The sum of the digits is 45? Well, the answer could be 0, or it could be 9.

This is what separates the magicians from the math-e-magicians. And math-e-magicians reveal their secrets.

He cold-reads. He will say, “I’m going to read your mind… I’m getting a lot of nothing. It’s not zero, is it?” And if the audience member says, “That’s right!”, we’re good. 

But if the audience member replies otherwise, he can say, “Try thinking harder… It’s nine!”, just playing it off like it was part of the act.

Cold-reading psychics do this as well, where they might see a woman crying and say, “It’s not your husband, is it?” and if the response is yes, they say, “Yeah, I thought so.” But if the answer is no, they say, “Yes, I didn’t think so.” 

Either way, the phrasing gives you that particular out. 

My favorite and least-favorite part of the show was when an audience member kid said that he could do 75 digits of pi, and then he could not accurately do 75 digits of pi. The performer did a great job of making the kid not realize he was flailing. The performer had said, “We’re going to do 60 digits of pi, and then maybe continue onwards.” And since the kid was flailing, the performer cut him off. 

Partner’s favorite part was when he asked a little girl for her birthday, and did a whole act with the numbers in it. He then asked for someone else’s birthday, and the girl’s sister volunteered. But the sister was quick to point out that she’s not just a sister: she’s a twin. The performer chuckled and used the birthday anyway. 

This particular performer used to create magic squares to entertain himself. Now he performs math-e-magic in an Off-Broadway show. 

Starting early sure helps. 

The light goes out in my designer’s eyes

My designer waved the white flag. 

After two months of haggling over specific lighting, he has assented that Partner & I are boss. He literally said, “I lose.” 

I didn’t want him to lose. I don’t think him feeling like he has lost is helpful for anyone. But I also don’t want to pay an extra $14,000 on lighting. I’d rather have a visible flange. So yes, he loses. 

Partner was the key technical driver here. In some areas, I’ve been the pusher (raising the ceilings, which Partner was skeptical about but is now excited for; getting a deep tub; ensuring the island countertop is 34” tall, so it’s ergonomic for Partner’s cooking). In this area, Partner’s prior technical knowledge of lighting (she was a professional theatrical lighting designer in a past life) lends itself to this new domain. 

The final straw: learning that the second-tier lighting suggested by the showroom has a beam of ~4 feet in diameter at 6 feet high, while the lighting we found has a beam of ~13 feet in diameter at the same level. The same cost gets us approximately the same lighting specs, but pi*6.5^2 = 133sqft of light vs 12sqft, or 10x the amount of light. 

Yes, there’s more to light than the amount of light (or else we’d just light the whole apartment with floodlights), but we’ve already checked those traits! They’re approximately equivalent on every other element, just these have visible flanges! 

So today, my designer assented to purchasing the lights we described. He is seeking someone to buy them from. (Why he won’t just buy them from the website I found previously, I don’t know.) 

10x the light, 10x my happiness, and 300 copies of future board games

Here’s to holding your ground. 

Thanks, Partner. I couldn’t have done it without you. 

The brighter move is caring less

My designer is deeply passionate about the aesthetics of recessed lighting fixtures. This passion provides me a valuable point of power. I hadn’t even known I had this power, but basically it’s the power of caring less. The gist: 

My designer wants me to have a specific brand of ceiling lighting fixtures. I am open to using his brand of lighting, but I’m also fine with a slightly cheaper brand with a small visible flange around each recessed light. He enjoys a trade discount of 30% on these lights. He wants to charge me 10% below MSRP for the lights. If I buy the lights through him, I’d happily pay some amount of money – 10% of the total lighting price after the 30% trade discount is applied – for him to deal with lights on my behalf. 

But I’d also be equally happy just ordering lights myself… in which case he 1) makes no money, and 2) feels much less satisfied by the lighting in the apartment. 

I don’t care about the flange! I will not care about the flange! Certainly not at the costs we’re discussing. 

But he does, so we could have a deal. 

Against Middlemen 

My project manager/apartment designer sent me on a wild goose chase because he likes pretty things and I like money. 

I left his office at 3:45pm. Partner & I walked the 20 minutes to the lighting showroom for our 4:45 appointment. It was hot. Partner was grumpy due to lack of food (an all-liquid diet will do that to you, especially if you make the mistake of giving away your protein shake). At 4:15pm, my designer texted to cancel: see, the showroom closes at 5pm, so what about a meeting on Thursday? I told him tomorrow (Wednesday) is good but Thursday is no good. See: we have an appointment with my designer’s boss on Thursday, and I really want the lighting nailed down before then. Partner has already designed a new lighting package, so this whole experience of look-at-this-new-lighting-package feels like a wild goose chase to me anyway. It’s all because my designer wants no visible flange around my lights, while I want 1.5% of a million-dollar farm upstate

Having already walked to the showroom (and being an impish sort of fellow), I entered anyway. After a 5-minute wait, I spotted the same saleswoman who had previously helped me. I asked her about the 4:45pm meeting. She said there never had been a 4:45pm meeting. 

Aha. 

I asked her if she had designed the new lighting package that my designer mentioned. She said yes. 

Me: “Could we schedule an appointment for tomorrow? Any time after 1pm.” 

Saleswoman: “Sure: I’m wide open anytime from 1pm. And you’re my top priority.”

Me: “Could you send me the product list and spec sheets ahead of time so I can research them?” 

Saleswoman: “We can only send it to your designer.”

Me: “That dramatically decreases the likelihood we will buy lights from you.” 

Saleswoman: “Sorry, it’s store policy.” 

When I shared this experience with Partner, she laughed and said wedding plans often have a password, to avoid e.g. the mother of the bride changing things. 

“That’s fair enough,” I said. “But I’m the bride!” 

I’ve heard it’s reasonably common in German culture for someone experiencing consumer anguish of this sort to say something like, “But I’m paying you money!” And maybe it’s my German genes, but that’s my natural response! 

If you’re not going to share your information with me, I won’t give you my money! I already am disinterested in the fact that you charge $20k for something that I could nearly mimic for $7k. And now you’re not going to share MY INFORMATION with me? It’s like a HIPAA violation, but for lighting showrooms! 

I emailed my designer. I started the conversation by requesting that he only tell me meetings are booked when they actually are booked. (Shots fired.) 

It’s even more frustrating because I don’t mind the flange. 

In reality, a small issue. The demolition on my apartment started yesterday, and is going swimmingly. The meeting with my designer and the owner of the contracting company went well. This is just one small drop in a sea of good news. 

And anyway, not giving them my money is the best revenge

Breaking down walls

Today we started demolition. I’ve been so nervous the last few days. It’s not the work – it’s the communication. I knew the clock had started (we have a defined duration guarantee). They knew the clock had started. Still, I didn’t know they would actually knock down walls. But they did. And I’m relieved. 

One pro tip: show up at random times, unannounced. That way they never know when you’ll be there, so they always have to be working. The same tip applies to loved ones in a nursing home. They’ll want you to give notice. Screw that: this is my house; I’m going to show up whenever I feel like it. Not to harrangue or annoy you – always to be polite – but because I want to know what’s going on. 

Tomorrow we meet with the Big Honcho. My first agenda item: schedule weekly check-ins. He told me he generally visits his construction sites once per week. I’ll just schedule to be there when he is. 

Today we brought brownies. First day of construction work: start the relationship off strong. Tomorrow we bring more brownies to the in-office meeting. Might as well be friendly! 

Brownies are cheap. A healthy relationship is priceless. 

Society’s Awkwardness Impinges 

At a two-year-old’s birthday party, the kids who spend time with their friends feel no awkwardness. Until the adults intervene. 

In the first case, one kid had a toy. The other kid approached and snatched it away. (It is, after all, his toy.) Neither kid cared. Until an adult said something like “share with her”… which created more tension. 

In a second case, one of the parents said “say happy birthday to X”. Immediately their druaghter became shy. She had been 0% shy the entire time. The formality caused a non-connective interaction. The “I-you” interaction became a “this formal entity executes a prescribed interaction with that formal entity”. 

When are you just doing? And when are you a formal form interacting with other formal forms

I suggest: doing is the most fun. The least self-conscious. The simplest. 

Formality is brought by top-down structures. And hot damn is it less fun. 

Amusing quotes: 

Someone said to Partner as Partner walked down the street: “I hope yo face get better. Let me know who did it. I got yo back.” 

Who says New Yorkers aren’t kind?

Musing on Connective Tissue

Imagine 10 or 100 people describe you, and their descriptions become a word cloud. Now take your word cloud, and compare it to other people’s.

Would we find that the people you spend time with have similar word clouds — similar descriptors, similar nouns about them? Does your cloud sit close to the clouds of the people near you? If so, in what ways alike, and in what ways different? (That’s graphing friend groups or political links in n-dimensional space according to personal traits, as a word cluster of noun descriptors of the person: clustering by cloud similarity and then drawing lines between the points based on social or political ties.)

My bet: people befriend and connect based on proximity. But the friend network is different than the leader. The map of who we like is not the map of who leads us.

Maybe “Yalie” is a noun about you, and a bunch of the people around you are also Yalies. Maybe most of the people you spend time with are quite tall — about the same height. But what about groups with diversities of traits instead: An office might cluster around Yalies but diversify by role: one person described “HR,” one described “accounting,” one described “CEO.” Some friend groups are all CEOs; other circumstances produce diversity. How does that work in an office? In politics? 

I wonder what they’d learn about politics. Is the most successful politician of a group the person who overlaps most with the rest of the group? I wouldn’t think the leader is necessarily the person with the most words overlapping others (because that person might miss a key trait, e.g. the desire to lead). Maybe the person who is friends with everybody is the one with the most in common with everybody. Or maybe the leader’s lowest commonality is higher than anybody else’s lowest (i.e. “The leader is nobody’s stranger.”). It’s got to be more complicated than that, depending on the group structure and incentives and the outsized impact of specific traits like desire for power.

Why I’ve been thinking about this: in a group that I interacted with today, the leader shares the most traits with the other group members. Each bloc shares one of her dimensions. Thinking about the descriptors of these different people and how she ended up being president: she is the person all of these different groups can agree on.

But often the leader of a group is not the leader because they have much in common with everybody, but because they plan things. That’s an interesting difference. The leader of a friend group is not the one most overlapping with others but more likely the one who organizes the events. In her case, part of it is she makes the thing happen — the leadership thing. This differs from the second-in-command, who doesn’t organize people, just makes the wheels run. Doing isn’t organizing.

Does anybody map social groups this way? A thing I’d be curious about: how do the friend network and the leader differ? The mapping half is studied — sociologists call it homophily. The gap between who connects and who leads is the fresher question.

Games Played

The writers missed out by failing to name it, “The Devil Wears Prada 2: The Devil Still Wears Prada.”